On July 22nd I was in route to Washington, DC for a business
trip. It was all so very ordinary, until we landed in Denver for a
plane change. As I collected my belongings from the overhead bin, an
announcement was made for Mr. Lloyd Glenn to see the United Customer
Service Representative immediately. I thought nothing of it until I
reached the door to leave the plane and I heard a gentleman asking every
male if he was Mr. Glenn. At this point I knew something was wrong and
my heart sunk.
When I got off the plane a solemn-faced young man came toward me
and said, "Mr. Glenn, there is an emergency at your home. I do not know
what the emergency is, or who is involved, but I will take you to the
phone so you can call the hospital."
My heart was now pounding, but the will to be calm took over.
Woodenly, I followed this stranger to the distant telephone where I
called the number he gave me for the Mission Hospital. My call was put
through to the trauma center where I learned that my three-year-old son
had been trapped underneath the automatic garage door for several
minutes, and that when my wife had found him he was dead.
CPR had been performed by a neighbor, who is a doctor, and the
paramedics had continued the treatment as Brian was transported to the
hospital. By the time of my call, Brian was revived and they believed he
would live, but they did not know how much damage had been done to his
brain, nor to his heart. They explained that the door had completely
closed on his little sternum right over his heart. He had been severely
crushed. After speaking with the medical staff, my wife sounded worried
but not hysterical, and I took comfort in her calmness.
The return flight seemed to last forever, but finally I arrived
at the hospital six hours after the garage door had come down. When I
walked into the intensive care unit, nothing could have prepared me to
see my little son laying so still on a great big bed with tubes and monitors
everywhere.
He was on a respirator. I glanced at my wife who stood and tried
to give me a reassuring smile. It all seemed like a terrible dream. I
was filled-in with the details and given a guarded prognosis. Brian was going
to live, and the preliminary tests indicated that his heart was OK, two
miracles in and of themselves. But only time would tell if his brain
received any damage.
Throughout the seemingly endless hours, my wife was calm. She
felt that Brian would eventually be all right. I hung on to her words
and faith like a lifeline. All that night and the next day Brian remained
unconscious. It seemed like forever since I had left for my business
trip the day before.
Finally at two o'clock that afternoon, our son regained
consciousness and sat up uttering the most beautiful words I have ever
heard spoken. He said, "Daddy hold me" and he reached for me with his
little arms. [TEAR BREAK... smile]
By the next day he was pronounced as having no neurological or
physical deficits, and the story of his miraculous survival spread
throughout the hospital. You cannot imagine, we took Brian home, we felt
a unique reverence for the life and love of our Heavenly Father that comes
to those who brush death so closely.
In the days that followed there was a special spirit about our
home. Our two older children were much closer to their little brother.
My wife and I were much closer to each other, and all of us were very
close as a whole family. Life took on a less stressful pace. Perspective
seemed to be more focused, and balance much easier to gain and maintain.
We felt deeply blessed. Our gratitude was truly profound.
The story is not over (smile)!
Almost a month later to the day of the accident, Brian awoke from
his afternoon nap and said, "Sit down Mommy. I have something to tell
you."
At this time in his life, Brian usually spoke in small phrases,
so to say a large sentence surprised my wife. She sat down with him on
his bed, and he began his sacred and remarkable story.
"Do you remember when I got stuck under the garage door? Well, it was so heavy
and it hurt really bad. I called to you, but you couldn't hear me. I started to cry, but
then it hurt too bad. And then the 'birdies' came."
"The birdies?" my wife asked puzzled.
"Yes," he replied.
"The birdies made a whooshing sound and flew into the garage. They took care of me."
"They did?"
"Yes," he said "one of the birdies came and got you. She came to tell you I got
stuck under the door."
A sweet reverent feeling filled the room. The
spirit was so strong and yet lighter than air. My wife realized that a
three-year-old had no concept of death and spirits, so he was referring
to the beings who came to him from beyond as "birdies" because they were
up in the air like birds that fly.
"What did the birdies look like?" she asked.
Brian answered, "They were so beautiful. They were dressed in
white, all white. Some of them had green and white. But some of them had
on just white."
"Did they say anything?"
"Yes," he answered. "They told me the baby would be all right."
"The baby?" my wife asked confused.
Brian answered. "The baby laying on the garage floor." He went on, "You
came out and opened the garage door and ran to the baby. You told the
baby to stay and not leave."
My wife nearly collapsed upon hearing this, for she had indeed gone
and knelt beside Brian's body and seeing his crushed chest whispered,
"Don't leave us Brian, please stay if you can." As she listened to Brian
telling her the words she had spoken, she realized that the spirit had
left His body and was looking down from above on this little lifeless
form.
"Then what happened?" she asked.
"We went on a trip." he said, "Far, far away."
He grew agitated trying to
say the things he didn't seem to have the words for. My wife tried to calm
and comfort him, and let him know it would be o okay. He struggled, wanting
to tell something that obviously was very important to him, but finding the words was
difficult.
"We flew so fast up in the air. They're so pretty Mommy," he
added. "And there are lots and lots of birdies."
My wife was stunned. Into her mind the sweet comforting spirit enveloped her more
soundly, but with urgency she had never before known. Brian went on to tell her that the
"birdies" had told him that he had to come back and tell everyone about
the "birdies." He said they brought him back to the house and that a big
fire truck, and an ambulance were there. A man was bringing the baby out
on a white bed and he tried to tell the man that the baby would be okay,
but the man couldn't hear him. He said the birdies told him he had to go
with the ambulance, but they would be near him.
He said they were so pretty and so peaceful, and he didn't want
to come back. Then the bright light came. He said that the light was so
bright and so warm, and he loved the bright light so much. Someone was in
the bright light and put their arms around him and told him, "I love you
but you have to go back."
The story went on for an hour. He taught us that "birdies" were
always with us, but we don't see them because we look with our eyes and
we don't hear them because we listen with our ears. But they are always
there, you can only see them in here (he put his hand over his heart).
They whisper the things to help us to do what is right because they love
us so much.
Brian continued, stating, "I have a plan, Mommy. You have a
plan. Daddy has a plan. Everyone has a plan. We must all live our plan
and keep our promises. The birdies help us to do that cause they love us so
much."
In the weeks that followed, he often came to us and told all, or
part of it, again and again. Always the story remained the same. The
details were never changed or out of order. A few times he added further
bits of information and clarified the message he had already delivered.
It never ceased to amaze us how he could tell such detail and speak beyond
his ability when he talked about his birdies.
Everywhere he went, he told strangers about the "birdies."
Surprisingly, no one ever looked at him strangely when he did this.
Rather, they always got a softened look on their face and smiled.
Needless to say, we have not been the same ever since that day, and I pray we
never will be.
You have just been sent an Angel to watch over you. Some people
come into our lives and quickly go... Some people become friends and stay
a while...leaving beautiful footprints on our hearts... and we are never
quite the same because we have made a good friend!!
Yesterday is history. Tomorrow a mystery. Today is a gift. That's
why it's called the present! Live and savor every moment... this is not a
dress rehearsal!
